The Best Medicine
by MarieKavanagh
Summary: Nineteen-year-old governess Ida Knowles is at her wits' end. Her eight-year-old charge, Sirius Black, is wilful and disobedient at the best of times, but when he falls ill with dragon pox, she is driven to the use of the only weapon in her arsenal - fetching his mother, Walburga Black, which leads her to a surprising conclusion...


Hard as it was to believe in hindsight, Ida Knowles had thought herself lucky when she'd first accepted the position of governess to two young boys in the respectable Black household at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place in London - her first real job since leaving Hogwarts almost two years ago and a far-cry from her humble beginnings as the daughter of a simple farmer and his witch wife.

The nineteen-year-old had nurtured an idea in her mind of one day working with children for as long as she could remember (much to the disappointment of her Head of House, who had tried to press her towards a career path that would put to use her talent for Herbology).

And so when she received the letter, written on expensive parchment, stamped with the family seal in black wax and delivered by a handsome eagle owl, confirming her acceptance for the position of governess, she was over the moon.

But, each and every day of the three weeks she had been in her position, she had found yet another reason to dislike it.

The generous provider of each of these reasons was the eight-year-old boy in her charge.

The younger of the two Black brothers, Regulus, was a sweet, quiet boy who gave his governess very little trouble. He would play quietly when bade, eat what was put in front of him and treat her with the politeness her position of authority was owed, despite her relative youth and inexperience in her role.

His elder brother, however, was a different matter altogether.

Ida remembered clearly the first time she'd been brought to meet the boys in their playroom on the uppermost floor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was her very first day in her new position and she hurried along the hallways of the grand (and somewhat intimidating) house, clutching her worn, leather suitcase containing her modest possessions, marvelling at the ornate items on display around the house and trying not to glance up at the portraits eyeing her suspiciously as she trailed after Walburga Black, who glided through her house with an effortless aura of grandeur that one could only acquire by means of impeccable breeding and sense of status.

Mrs. Black was a formidable woman, to say the least. A woman of tall stature who seemed to add several inches to her height simply by her superior view of herself alone, she had a way of fixing Ida's warm, brown eyes with an icy, grey stare that instantly made her feel she had done something wrong. Ida had never once seen her as anything other than impeccably dressed in her fine gowns, nor did she ever have a hair out of place, her thick, jet-black tresses always confined firmly within a neat up-do.

As a rule, Ida tried her best to avoid all but absolutely necessary association with her employer, not least because, despite being willing to allow her to look after her children, Walburga Black made it perfectly clear to her sons' governess that, as a half-blood, she viewed her as a lower status than that of her own family. She never said as much - such outward expression of distaste would be far below the decorum expected of a witch of her standing. But Ida could see Mrs Black's feelings as clear as day, in her critical gaze, the disapproving arch of her eyebrows and haughty sniff when Ida had attempted to start a friendly conversation, and her complete disinterest in knowing anything about Ida's family.

In fact, to Ida's surprise, the two boys under her care had been instructed by their mother not to ask their governess about her family or background.

"Mama said we're not to ask you about your family" Regulus had said meekly, when Ida had attempted to tell him about her parents' farm.

"Why not?" Ida had asked, with bewildered naivity. Perhaps her employer was worried the boys' questions would make her homesick?

"Because you're a half-blood" his elder brother had answered, bold as brass, with not a hint of shame. There was no malice in his voice. He spoke with a blunt, factual tone, barely bothering to look up at Ida as he spoke before he continued scribbling away at his schoolwork.

Ida was startled. Of course, she had known that their blood purity was a trait the Black family were proud of, having been warned by several friends prior to taking the job. But the reality of their distaste towards half-bloods, towards her, stung more than she had expected.

Nevertheless, Ida had originally been willing to put these prejudices to one side, in a typically Hufflepuff attempt to find the most appealing side of the people who owned the house in which she lived and worked. She'd hoped that, once she'd established a warm relationship with the Sirius and Regulus, their mother would perhaps begin to look upon her more respectfully.

The father of the family, Orion, scarcely made an appearance in Ida's daily life. On the rare occasions she ran into him during his brief moments outside of his study, he hardly seemed to notice she was there at all, for all the attention he paid to her respectful nod and mutter of "Good morning, sir".

However, her plan had gone awry the from almost the first moment she had been introduced to Sirius Black, eldest son and heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

After having unpacked her meagre possessions in her small bedroom, Ida was led back downstairs to the drawing room to be introduced to her new young charges.

The two boys stood side by side in the drawing room (a rather austere, cheerless room, Ida thought to herself), dressed in identical smart robes of dark green. Their matching mops of black hair showed signs of having been forcibly smoothed down tidily, and the two sets of eyes, both a unique shade of steel-grey, gazed up at their new governess curiously.

Neither made a move, nor spoke a word, as the pair entered, nor did their gaze avert from Ida as their mother strode over to stand beside them.

The younger of the two boys, Regulus, stood a head shorter than his elder brother and wore a shy expression that immediately told Ida that this would be a quiet child whom she could perhaps coax out of his shell with kindness, and perhaps a liquorice wand or two.

Sirius, however, the eldest son, wore an expression of far more confidence than his brother. He eyed the young woman before him critically, as though he were sizing her up. Ida thought this quite peculiar in a boy so young. Never did she expect to find herself subject to such intimidating judgement from an eight-year-old.

In an urge to break the icy silence between them, Ida sunk to her knees on the carpet, thankfully oblivious to the disproving look her new mistress shot down at the gesture.

"Hello, Sirius" Ida said cheerily, extending her arm in the offer of a handshake."I'm Ida. Pleased to meet you"

Sirius slowly held out his hand to his new governess, his critical gaze melting instantly to a look of wide-eyed innocence.

However, mere seconds after she grasped his small palm in her own, Ida shrieked and jerked backwards with such force that it was a wonder she didn't tumble from her knees to the floor, as a tiny white mouse scuttled out from under the boy's robe sleeve and onto her own hand.

The startled young witch shook her arm wildly, flailing for a moment before sending the mouse hurtling to the ground with a squeak, where it ran off to attempt to crawl under a nearby rug.

"I'm Sirius" the little boy said, his grey eyes still alight with innocence. "Pleased to meet you too"

Scrambling back to her feet, Ida's eyes flitted from the boy and his embarrassed-looking younger brother to the mouse, still attempting to scrabble under the rug.

A second later, however, the mouse disappeared in a puff of greyish smoke.

Ida glanced round to see Walburga pocketing her wand within the inner pocket of her robes, having disposed of the creature. The stern-faced witch turned her hard gaze towards her sons. Eyeing her firstborn with a cross look that told Ida there was sure to be shouting, a display of parental telling-off that would make her feel very out of place.

But to her surprise, Walburga did not shout, did not raise her voice, in fact did not speak at all, at first. She reached out a hand and gripped her young son firmly by the chin, tilting his head up to look directly at her. His neck automatically craned upwards, following her guiding pull. He was clearly used to this handling.

"No cake or biscuits at teatime for the rest of this week" Walburga said, her firm voice leaving no room for even a trace of argument. "And if I hear any more tales of filthy creatures hiding inside your robes, then I shall turn you into one. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mama" Sirius replied to his mother with a look that seemed so unnaturally solemn for the boy to Ida, even in the few moments she had known him, that she felt sure he was putting on a facade to please his mother.

But in the short time that Ida had known Walburga Black, she had gotten the strong impression that this was not a witch who was easily swayed by simpering words. And sure enough, her grip on her son's chin remained firm, forcing him to look her in the eye for a few moments longer, until she was at last rewarded with a tug at the side of Sirius's mouth that gave away a hidden smirk - his true lack of remorse bleeding through his outwardly innocent mask.

Satisfied, for now, Walburga released Sirius from her grasp and turned to Ida once more.

"You would do well to take a firm hand when dealing with Sirius Orion" said the boys' mother, her voice calm with warning. "He can prove rather- wilful, at times"

Ida's eyes darted towards Sirius, who stood with his head bowed, his dark hair falling in front of his face, hiding his smirk. Despite his mother's intimidating presence, he clearly was not cowed.

"Yes, Ma'am" Ida replied, annoyed at how meek she sounded against the strong personalities she had just witnessed.

Without a word of goodbye to either her children or their governess, Walburga turned for the door and swept out of the room.

In the silence that followed, Ida breathed a sigh of relief. She had survived the first of the many tests that Sirius would come to throw at her, making it out with only a moderate sense of embarrassment.

She glanced over at the boys. Regulus stood, quiet and still, looking up at Ida expectantly, awaiting orders.

Sirius's eyes finally lifted from the floor once sure his mother was gone. His smirk remained, but Ida did not miss the faint yet still detectable trace of worry cross his face.

Ida supposed he was never quite sure whether to take his mother's threat to turn him into a mouse seriously or not.

Perhaps that lack of certainty was what ensured Ida was never struck by the same trick from him again.

That did not mean, however, that Sirius Black resembled what any sane person would call a well-behaved child.

The eight-year-old boy was a law unto himself most of the time. He would play wildly with what he wanted, when he wanted (and refuse to put away his toys when finished to boot), loudly protest if his food did not suit his chosen style of pickiness for the day and seemed to relish in doing the exact opposite of what his governess asked of him.

In three short weeks, Sirius Black had reduced the once bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ex-Hufflepuff to an anxious ball of nerves and frustration, constantly in debate with herself as to whether she could face returning to her parents' tumbledown cottage in rural Devon, having given up the career working with children she'd argued so hard for them to let her peruse.

Ida had never before felt it possible that she could ever truly grow to hate a child. Sirius Black, however, seemed determined to take this a a personal challenge.

At the end of Ida's third full week of employment within the Black household, however, Sirius fell ill with dragon pox.

True to his nature, Sirius had at first stubbornly refused to admit he was falling ill. He had carried on with his lively antics as normal, seeming either oblivious or simply un-phased to the way he swayed and had to clutch a nearby piece of furniture when he moved too quickly.

Ida had grown suspicious that the malady, of which all wizard children seemed to suffer by way of tradition, may be taking hold when she thought she'd seen the beginnings of the distinct purple rash forming between the boy's toes whilst helping him dress in his formal robes one Sunday morning.

"It's nothing, I'm fine" the boy had snapped, shoving his feet quickly into his socks and out of sight.

But when the distinct pox-marks began to appear around Sirius's face and neck, Ida knew there was no mistaking the fact that Sirius had dragon pox.

Almost as if triggered by his governess's suspected diagnosis, Sirius's health suddenly began to fade quickly. Although he had put up a valiant fight against his growing fatigue, by lunchtime that day, Sirius was looking visibly pale and weary, barely able to stand for a few seconds without swaying.

"I'll be fine, leave me alone!" Sirius protested stubbornly as Ida firmly led him to his bedroom.

"You are not fine, Sirius" said Ida, clutching the boy's wrist tight as he tried to tug it free from her grasp. "You are ill and you are going to bed until we can arrange for a healer to seen to you"

"Don't need a stupid healer..." Sirius muttered, though he obviously didn't have the energy to put up more than a token physical fight.

Once she'd wrestled the boy out of his robes and into his pyjamas, Ida had left him sitting up in bed, arms crossed over his chest in a failing attempt to look stubbornly healthy, and went to consult with the boy's mother.

Never one to waste time, Walburga summoned a healer to the house immediately. This was something of a surprise to Ida, who had at first asked if she should ready Sirius for a trip to St. Mungo's to be examined.

"Absolutely not" Walburga had replied. She seemed downright offended by the suggestion. "My son is ill, Miss Knowles. I would not dream of the idea of taking him from this house. He may well pick up all manner of additional ailments in that place.

Her nose wrinkled as she spoke, making it clear to Ida that what she meant was that "that place" was not good enough for her son.

And so a private, and no doubt expensive healer was summoned to the house.

The man inspected Sirius carefully, shaking his head at the boy's complexion and growing fever.

"It is dragon pox, I'm certain" the healer announced as he returned to the parlour with Walburga to rejoin Ida, who had been left waiting there.

"What is to be done?" Walburga asked, her voice as brisk and formidable as ever, curiously lacking, Ida noted, in the motherly worry that Ida remembered seeing from her own mother when she herself had gone through the rite of passage that was a childhood bout of dragon pox.

"Rest, plenty of rest" said the healer, the direction of his head switching from Mrs. Black to Ida, as though not certain which woman his instructions were best delivered to. "And I' shall prescribe a course of our newest healing potion for dragon pox - not long developed"

He fumbled in his leather healer's bag, the room filling with the sound of the clattering of many more potion bottles than it seemed possible to fit inside a bag of such size. From the depths of the bag he pulled an ornate-looking glass bottle that seemed to glitter, not helped by the shimmering purple potion within it. Everything about it oozed 'expensive'.

Ida was suddenly reminded of a distant memory, from her own days of childhood illness. Unable to dream of affording a private healer on her father's income as a simple Muggle farmer, Mrs Knowles had taken her daughter for an out-patient appointment at St. Mungo's and been sent home with the same instructions for rest that Sirius had been given - but with no glittering potion bottle. Even if a cure for dragon pox had existed a decade ago, Ida knew there was no way they could have afforded it.

"Never mind" Ida remembered her mother's soothing voice reassuring her as she leaned against her in bed after a particularly nasty fit of sneezing sparks. "We've got all we need to make you better right here. Who needs fancy potions when you've got me to look after you? Everyone knows love is the best medicine"

Ida remembered the memory fondly, but she knew her mother had simply been trying to cheer her up. Faced with the sight of the potion that could have seen her cured in far quicker time than the two weeks it had taken her without medicinal help, she couldn't help but envy the undoubtedly-shorter length of time that Sirius would have to endure his illness than she'd had to.

"We've come on in leaps and bounds in recent years with treating dragon pox. However, I would stress that for maximum efficiency, the full dosage must be taken at the same time three times daily, and only on a full stomach, lest the ingredients cause upset. The taste is not particularly child-friendly, I'm afraid"

Ida grimaced, already dreading the prospect of persuading Sirius to take the potion if it tasted as bad as the healer suggested.

"The symptoms should subside in a week or so, if treated properly. In the meantime, I'd suggest you keep an eye on those sneezes" the healer continued, handing the potion bottle to Ida before turning to Walburga with a chuckle. "I've seen many a bedside table burned to a crisp during a bout of dragon pox"

Walburga did not return the healer's chuckle. Her face remained frozen in a polite, restrained look.

"I'm sure" she said stiffly. "Was there anything else?"

"Ah, no. No, I think that's about it" the healer replied, awkwardly, fumbling with the strap of his bag.

"Then I shall thank you for your services and bid you good day. My husband will arrange payment upon my son's recovery"

Having clearly been given his marching orders, the healer nodded to Ida in a gesture of farewell and made his way out of the room, no doubt to retreat back through the drawing room fireplace as quickly as possible.

Once they were alone, Walburga turned to Ida, fixing her with the piercing glare that never failed to make the young governess feel a cold shiver travel down her spine.

"You understood the healer's instructions, I trust?" she asked expectantly.

"Yes, Ma'am" Ida replied quickly.

"Then I trust you will ensure he remains in bed and that he takes the potion strictly when required?"

Her impeccably arched eyebrows raised expectantly at the girl, who quickly nodded.

"Of course" said Ida, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt under the icy gaze of her intimidating employer.

He may be a trial, but even Sirius had to be more pliable when struck down by illness, Ida told herself, firmly. Right?

"Sirius, please, you must try to eat something"

Ida felt as though she may as well be talking to a brick wall, for all the progress she was making with trying to persuade Sirius to eat his lunch of chicken soup.

In the three days since the healer had confirmed his dragon pox, the boy had steadily become more and more ill. His skin paled and became tinged with green, his fever climbed steadily higher and a large number of the disease's trademark blemishes had begun to appear all over his skin.

As Sirius's illness worsened, his mood plummeted. The lively, energetic child was frustrated with being confined to bed, not that he had the energy to enjoy any activity anyway. His skin itched, he tossed and turned with the effort of trying to get comfortable and, when he least expected it, he would be overcome with random and hard-hitting bouts of sneezes that would send sparks shooting across the bed, threatening to set fire to the covers.

Ida had provided him with a fire-repellent handkerchief to stifle his sneezes, as her own mother had done for her during her own bout of dragon pox as a child. Much of her efforts to care for her young charge at this miserable time were based on her own memories of what had once been done for her.

But alas, for Sirius Black possessed a wilful, stubborn personality quite far removed from her own, and each of her thoughtful gestures of sympathy and comfort were rejected, one by one.

Sirius was not a child who did well in isolation. With his younger brother and sole playmate yet to experience his own bout of dragon pox, Regulus had been kept separate from Sirius for fear that he too should fall ill. As a result, both boys were miserable.

But whilst sweet, quiet Regulus could be cheered up from his loneliness with an extra biscuit at tea time and the offer of having a story read to him, Sirius was almost impossible to placate. Too ill to indulge in the sweet treats of which he was normally so fond and having turned down Ida's offer to be read to with a rude bark from under the covers about how he was to old for stupid stories, he was left with little more to do than lay in bed, curled up with the covers drawn over his head and attempt to sulk himself well again.

Meal times had become a battle of wills. Ida's thrice daily struggle to ensure Sirius ate enough food to be able to take his potion left her feeling worn out and frustrated. She'd always considered herself a patient person, but Sirius Black was certainly taking that description as a personal challenge.

"Don't want it" the boy mumbled from under his bed covers.

"Well, tough" Ida tried to summon the strength to sound as firm as she needed to when dealing with this most wilful of children.

Even to herself, she sounded like an impostor.

"You have to eat it anyway"

"No"

Ida bit back a sigh of frustration. The healer's warning about the potential negative effects on the potion if not taken with food, as well as Mrs Black's stern gaze when entrusting her with the care of her son swirled round her head endlessly.

She needed to be firmer, Ida told herself.

Cradling the bowl of soup in her lap with one hand, Ida reached out and tugged back the covers hiding Sirius from her. He blinked wearily in the daylight, scowling, and reached up an arm to shield his eyes from the glare.

"I've had enough of this now, Sirius" said Ida, pulling the covers out of the boy's reach as he attempted to grab them to cover himself once more.

Ida ladled the chicken soup onto a spoon and brought it, somewhat hesitantly, towards Sirius's mouth. She was just beginning to feel that he may actually accept the offering, until the irked child lashed out at her, batting the spoon away from his face with a wave of his arm, sending it hurtling to the floor.

Ida barely had time to respond to the rebellious display before a sudden, unexpected force of magic collided with her lap, knocking into the steaming bowl in her hand and sending the thick soup slopping over the edge and all over her dress.

Ida yelped and jumped to her feet as the hot liquid stung her legs through the material of her clothes. She quickly pulled out her wand and vanished the mess from herself, the heat from the soup immediately disappearing from her lap, leaving her thankfully unscathed from the ordeal.

Furious, she rounded on Sirius, who, in her distraction, had seized the opportunity to grab his bed covers back and pull them back over himself, with all but his eyes, alight with defiance, and his scowling brow able to be seen.

He looked completed devoid of remorse for the mess and potential harm his outburst of accidental magic had caused. Ida knew all to well that expecting an apology from the boy was like expecting a nogtail to fly.

As though this fact alone weren't enough, to Ida's shock, when she glanced over to Sirius as she finished drying her dress with her wand, she caught the corner of his mouth curving upwards in what looked to be an amused smirk.

The little devil. Not simply content to throw a tantrum and cause a mess over a bowl of soup, he also possessed the audacity to find the whole thing amusing.

"Right" she seethed as she pocketed her wand, exasperated. "That does it"

Ida stomped across the bedroom to place the bowl of soup on top of the chest of drawers, knowing all to well that to leave it on the bedside table was as good as asking Sirius to knock it to the floor again.

She then turned and headed for the door.

Where are you going?" came an apprehensive voice from the bed. Ida turned in the doorway to see that he had lifted himself slightly to peak out from behind the bedding.

"To fetch your mother"

At his governess's words, Sirius's tired, scowling face appeared to flash with alarm. He visibly shrunk a little back under the covers.

Ida felt a small jolt of satisfaction. The threat of his mother being informed of his misbehaviour was one of the very few weapons Ida had in her arsenal.

But at the same time, it was one she did not use lightly.

Ida had still failed to find herself being able to ever fully relax in the presence of Walburga Black. The mistress of the house never failed to make Ida feel inadequate, and with each report of her son's bad behaviour, Ida felt her critical, steel gaze cut her deep to the core, each misdemeanour feeling like another stain against her competence at her job.

As Ida descended the stairs of Grimmauld Place, trying hard, as always, to avoid meeting the ever-judging glares from the portraits of the ancestors of the House of Black, she felt a flutter of butterflies beginning to bloom in the pit of her stomach.

She knew that Mrs Black was entertaining her sisters-in-law for tea that afternoon and that she would be irked at the interruption, but she also knew that if she left the incident un-dealt with, the repercussions would be worse when, later that evening, she summoned Ida for a report of her children's activities and behaviour that day.

She was under strict orders not to allow her wilfully disobedient elder son to get away with his misdemeanours. Unfortunately for Ida, more often than not the only way to ensure Sirius was properly chastised was to summon Walburga herself. No matter how hard she tried to take inspiration from the formidable witch, nothing Ida could say or do ever seemed to sway the boy the way his mother could.

Ida approached the door to the parlour with soft footsteps, silently pleading with the floorboards not to give away her presence with a creak before she'd had time to compose her words. She rocked on the balls of her feel nervously, hands clasped tight together in front of her as she scripted her words in her head.

Just as she thought she was ready, a sudden clatter and loud grunt rang through the quiet of the hallway.

Ida looked down just as the form of an all-too-familiar house elf barged into her, knocking the back of her legs with a silver tray carrying a display of biscuits.

"Move along, half-blood" Kreacher snarled unpleasantly, not gracing Ida with the courtesy of raising his eyes to look at her face. "Every other day, the half-blood is here, dallying in the hallways, in Kreacher's way. Kreacher wonders how much longer his mistress will put up with it"

Ida silently stepped aside to allow the house elf to push open the heavy wooden door and continue his task. She had long since learned to ignore his daily insults. Though Ida has sympathised with the plight of the house elves within the higher ranks of wizarding society, she had found herself struggling to include Kreacher in her sympathies.

"What on Earth are you mumbling about now, elf?"

Ida jumped slightly at the muffled sound of Walburga's voice from inside the parlour. Evidently Kreacher had continued his rantings as he served the biscuits.

"The half-blood, Mistress. Loitering in the hallway, just behind the door, again. Kreacher worries, he does. So much time away from the young masters, she spends. Leaving them upstairs, alone, while she stands about idly, dithering-"

"Ida!"

Ida flinched at the sound of her mistress calling her from inside the parlour, cutting over the elf's muttering.

"Come in at once, girl"

Her carefully compiled composure gone to the wind, Ida had no choice but to obey. Her shaking hand reached out to the handle and she entered the parlour to find herself being stared at expectantly by Walburga.

Surrounding the tea table were the curious faces, that Ida recognised from previous visits, of Lucretia and Druella Black - her sisters-in-law. All three women, had their gazes fixed on Ida as she approached, making the girl feel shrunken with self-consciousness in their formidable presence.

"I would assume there is a logical reason that you have been standing outside the parlour door, and not upstairs attending to my sons?" Walburga asked, arching an eyebrow in what Ida now knew to be a hidden warning.

"Yes, Ma'am" Ida replied with a nod, clasping her hands tight for support and forcing herself not to fidget her feet nervously. "I was on my way to ask you, Ma'am, if you wouldn't mind- um, that is, if you would-"

"If I wouldn't mind what, Ida?"

Ida was taken aback by her clearly impatient tone. Walburga could never abide Ida's tendency to skirt around the point of her words. Her lack of confidence was apparently rather aggravating.

"If you wouldn't mind coming upstairs for a moment" Ida finished. "It's- to do with Sirius"

"Is it, now?" came the amused tone of Lucretia Prewett who chuckled to herself as she delicately stirred a sugar cube into her tea. "And what, pray tell, has my mischievous nephew gotten up to this time?"

"One would hope, very little" Walburga quipped, shooting a mildly-irked glare at her husband's sister. "Considering he is currently in bed with dragon pox"

"Goodness me" Lucretia replied, raising her eyebrows at Ida. "Dragon pox, is it, now?"

"I'm afraid so, Ma'am" Ida replied with plain, dutiful politeness.

Though seemingly light-hearted and friendly on the surface, something about Lucretia Black made Ida feel careful never to quite trust her. She reminded the young governess of a cobra, luring her prey into a false sense of friendly security before going for the kill.

"Oh dear, poor boy" Lucretia tutted, shaking her head pityingly and exchanging sympathetic looks with Druella.

"Ghastly, inconvenient illness" Druella Black added, nibbling on the corner of a biscuit. "I remember when my girls had it. Poor Narcissa suffered the worst of it. It was almost three weeks before the healer said she was well enough to get up"

Ida noticed, discretely, that Walburga appeared to suppress a sigh of disinterest at her brother's wife's tale.

"How very inconvenient" Lucretia replied pityingly before turning to look at Ida once more. "I imagine poor little Sob isn't taking too kindly to being stuck in bed?"

"Not very much, Ma'am, no" Ida replied, careful to keep her tone respectfully impartial, in spite of her inner frustrations.

"I suppose I wouldn't be incorrect in assuming that it is some misdemeanour of Sirius Orion's that has brought you on this mission to summon me?" Walburga asked.

Whilst her sisters-in-law had exchanged looks and words, Walburga's eyes had not once left their fixed position on Ida.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm afraid so" Ida took a deep breath before continuing, willing herself not to clam up. "Sirius has been- rather... troublesome, today"

"Goodness me, whatever next?" Lucretia laughed sarcastically, taking a sip of her tea.

"How so?" Walburga asked, dangerously calm, ignoring her sister-in-law's chuckle.

"He is proving very unwilling to co-operate today, Ma'am. It is about now time for his lunch and next potion dose. I've tired to get him to co-operate and eat, but he- that is, he-"

"He what?" Walburga snapped, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Speak up, girl"

"He refused to eat a single mouthful of his soup. He lashed out and knocked the spoon out of my hand. And then he seemed to have an outburst of magic, which knocked the bowl and spilled the soup onto the floor- and me"

Ida forced herself to breathe steady as she awaited her mistress's response to her torrent of words.

"My my" came the voice of Mrs Prewett as she took another sip of her tea. "I had no idea Sob has such strong opinions on soup"

"Oh do be quiet, Lucy" Walburga said, glaring across the table at the smirking Lucretia before turning back to Ida.

"And I suppose this would mean that my son is yet to receive his next potion dose?"

"I'm afraid so, Ma'am, yes" Ida agreed, meekly.

"You'll want to be careful, dear" said Druella to Walburga in her trademark simpering tone. "It's vital the medicine is administered with strict regularity, lest you risk the pox marks scarring. We wouldn't want that"

Ida had observed the dynamics between the three sisters-in-law only in short snippets during her time working for the Blacks so far, but from the carefully-timed critical quips that Walburga's brother's wife liked to offer regarding her two nephews, Ida strongly suspected that the witch was jealous of the children Walburga possessed. Her two sons, of course, far more valuable to the pureblood dynasty than her own three daughters

It took a fair amount of effort for Ida to keep her face suitably devoid of all opinion on the matter, but she rather supposed that it would give Druella Black her best day since Christmas to hear that her elder nephew's face had been left scarred from his illness.

"Indeed, we would not want that at all" Walburga replied, in a voice that barely even attempted to hide her understanding of Druella's words.

Walburga got to her feet, smoothing the skirts of her gown as she left the table.

"Do excuse me, ladies. I'm quite sure this shan't take long"

Ida could feel herself turning red as she meekly followed behind her mistress as she strode briskly from the room and ascended the staircase towards Sirius's room.

The witch did not speak to her as they travelled through the house. The scolding that Ida had expected for her failings and interruptions never arrived. Ida breathed a cautious sigh of relief. For now, at least, she relished the silence.

As they entered Sirius's room, Ida could just about see over Walburga's shoulder that Sirius had shrunken down a little further under the covers as his mother's formidable silhouette filled the doorway to his bedroom.

"Sirius Orion" said Walburga by way of greeting as she strode across the room to stand beside Sirius's bed. She did not sink to sit on the bedside chair previously occupied by Ida, but rather stood tall and looked down at her son with her arms folded expectantly.

Ida hovered awkwardly just inside of the doorway, feeling, as she always did, painfully out of place during confrontations between the mother and her son.

"Would you care to explain to me the meaning behind these tales I've been hearing about your behaviour today?"

Ida could see Sirius, curled on his side with his head turned into the pillow, his grey eyes reluctantly directed upwards to look at his mother.

The boy did not answer his mother's question.

"Only I have been hearing from your governess that you have behaved insolently, have refused to eat your lunch, to take your potion, and have even been so wilfully ill-behaved as to make a mess with the soup bowl. Is this true?"

Again, Sirius did not answer, but attempted to turn his head further into the pillow as if to hide himself from his mother.

"Answer me, Sirius" Walburga ordered, her voice quiet but firm.

"Didn't mean to" Sirius finally muttered, his face still turned into the pillow.

"What didn't you mean to do?" Walburga raised an eyebrow down at her son. "Do you mean you didn't mean to spill the soup?"

"Yes"  
"Oh I am quite certain you didn't mean to spill the soup, be assured of that"

Walburga's voice took on a surprisingly understanding tone for a moment, just long enough to make Sirius turn his head to look back up at his mother in surprise.

"I am quite sure that your outburst of magic was accidental" the boy's mother continued. "For as bright a boy as you are, I would be positively astounded if you had the slightest control of your magical abilities at the mere age of eight. However, what I am sure of is that your unacceptable behaviour is what lead to such an incident occurring in the first place"

Sirius looked visibly uncomfortable, and not just because of his feverishness.

To Ida's surprise, Walburga suddenly dropped gracefully to sit down in the chair at Sirius's bedside, leaning forward with her elbows on her lap to meet her son's tired eyes.

"Tell me, Sirius, do you enjoy being unwell?" Walburga asked.

"No..." Sirius replied cautiously, as though this were a trick question.

"And do you enjoy being confined to bed, unable to go about your day, when you could be enjoying yourself with your brother?"

"No" Sirius's small voice said again.

"Then would you care to explain your reasoning for wilfully resisting your governess's efforts to help make you well again?"

Sirius did not reply. He squirmed around a little under his blankets and a little hand poked out from underneath to scratch at his pox-marked face. He barely managed more than a couple of quick scratches, however, before his mother's hand grasped his wrist and pulled his hand firmly back away from his face and down onto the bed, where it stayed.

Clearly tired of waiting for the answer she desired but deep down knew not to expect from her son, Walburga Black instead took action.

In one swift move, she tugged the covers down to expose the top half of Sirius's pyjama-clad body. She then grasped her son, perhaps a little too firmly for his feverish and sore skin, and pulled him to sit up against the headboard of the bed, cushioned by his pillows.

Sirius was clearly disturbed by the movement but did not protest with anything more than a small whine as he was manoeuvred up to a sitting position. He scrunched his eyes closed and grimaced for a moment, in a movement which reminded Ida of the bouts of dizziness she too had felt at the height of her own bout of dragon pox as a child.

Walburga pulled her wand from the hidden pocket in the layers of her gown skirt, causing her son to flinch slightly. But she instead pointed her wand towards the chest of drawers where Ida had left the bowl of soup, summoning it over to her. It landed smoothly in her lap, with barely a ripple of movement within the bowl.

"Don't like soup" Sirius muttered with a grimace as he watched his mother tap the bowl with a warming charm. The now-lukewarm soup soon streamed with warmth one again, the Ida knew that magical re-heated food never quite tasted as good as it originally would have done.

"Nonsense" said Walburga firmly, stirring the chicken soup with the spoon. "You've never raised the slightest objection to it since you were an infant and I highly doubt that your illness has addled your taste buds to a point where that has changed"

Defeated, and clearly struggling to summon the energy just to maintain his sat-up position, Sirius's gaze lowered from his mother to the bed.

"Now, eat"

Walburga brought a spoonful of soup towards her son's mouth and Ida braced herself for Sirius to swipe the spoon away as he'd done to her.

But to her surprise, the boy did not resist. He opened his mouth and accepted the soup, swallowing with a miserable-sounding gulp.

The spoon was quickly refilled with the steaming soup and offered to him again, and Ida was left nothing short of stunned as she watched Walburga Black achieve in less than five minutes what she herself had been failing to for two days - to make Sirius eat a full meal without protest.

Once every last drop of soup had been scraped out of the bowl and fed to her son, Walburga at last set the spoon back into the bowl and sent them both back to the kitchen with a tap of her wand.

"There, now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she said, giving Sirius's face a brisk wipe with a summoned napkin. There was no kind praise in her tone, merely a formidable sense of a necessary task completed at last.

Sirius didn't reply. He stared down at his lap, his hands fidgeting with the bed covers in what Ida suspected to be an effort to resist the urge to scratch at his itchy skin again.

"Ida"

The young governess jumped a little at the sound of her name being called unexpectedly. She looked to Walburga to find her mistress looking at her expectantly.

"Where is Sirius's potion?"

Ida felt herself flushing red.

"In the second drawer down, Ma'am" she said meekly, gesturing to the chest of drawers.

Walburga silently got to her feet and strode over to retrieve the glass bottle from its peculiar hiding spot.

"And why, pray tell, is this medicinal remedy being stored inside my son's sock drawer?"

"He- He kept trying to destroy it, Ma'am" Ida replied, forcing herself to look up at the stern-faced witch before her. "I've had to keep finding new hiding spots for it"

A moment of tense silence hung between the three occupants of the room.

"I see" Walburga finally replied icily, staring down at her clearly nervous young employee.

Without further comment, she turned away from Ida and returned to stand before Sirius's bedside.

The boy was eyeing his mother cautiously, like a rabbit poised to flee from a predatory fox at any moment, should the creature decide to pounce.

"I cannot begin to fathom what had become of your senses when you decided that attempting to destroy the cure to your ills was a good idea, Sirius Orion" said Walburga, after a few moments' silent observation of her bedridden child.

She slowly sank back down to resume her place in the chair by the bedside. She carefully uncorked the potion bottle, it's shimmering purple contents letting out a feeble fizzing noise upon contact with the air.

"But I certainly hope that they have now returned, and that we will have no more of this childish attempt to make yourself even more ill than you already are"

"No, I don't want it" said Sirius, clutching the blankets tight in his hands defiantly.

"You don't want it?" Walburga repeated in mock surprise.

Sirius shook his head.

Walburga tilted her head to one side, her grey eyes fixed intently on Sirius.

"Tell me, Sirius" she said, her voice threateningly neutral. "Do you wish to be ridden with pox scars for the remainder of your life?

Sirius reluctantly shook his head.

"And do you wish to be ridiculed, when you go to school, for your green-tinged complexion?"

"No..." Sirius muttered.

"Then I suggest you do as you are told and take the potion prescribed for you to prevent this"

"But it tastes nasty!" Sirius whined, his enthusiasm for argument returning at last.

The boy had fought Ida at the presentation of every dose. Chicken soup, he could put up with. But the potion that would cure him was a step too far for his particular palate.

"It is a medicinal potion, Sirius" Walburga replied icily, dribbling the thick potion into the dose phial. "It's purpose is to cure your illness. Whether or not the taste appeals to you is entirely surplus to requirement. Now, open"

Sirius did not obey his mother's order. He fixed the hated phial with a pleading look.

Undeterred, Walburga leaned forward and brought the phial to her son's mouth, with her free hand grasping him by the chin and tilting his head back whilst the other seized the opportunity to pour the potion dose into his mouth and down his throat.

As quick as Sirius tried to thrash his head, his mother's palm, free of the vanished-in-the-blink-of-an-eye phial, clamped down over his mouth and prevented him from spitting out the potion as he had done several times for Ida.

Walburga only released him from her firm hold once she was sure he had swallowed the whole dose.

Sirius coughed and spluttered, grimacing intensely at the taste of the potion.

"There. All done"

Walburga replaced the cork of the bottle and placed it on Sirius's bedside table.

The boy's eyes darted sideways towards it for a second.

"I would strongly advise against thinking up any sort of scheme to get rid of that potion, Sirius Orion" Walburga warned. "I assure you, I will simply have another bought and delivered within the hour"

Sirius sniffed and directed his gaze sulkily down at the bed, only to have his attention brought back to his mother by the sharp words,

"I shall be checking with your governess this evening" said Walburga and she finished arranging the bedding. "And what I expect to be told is that you ate all of your dinner without any more of these childish games of yours. Is that clear?"

Sirius's mouth opened, perhaps to argue back, but he was suddenly overcome by another violent sneezing fit, emitting shots of sparks which he only just managed to trap inside his fire-repellent handkerchief.

Walburga observed, blank-faced, as her son hunched over with the force of his sneezing fit.

Ida studied the witch's expression carefully. She seemed... conflicted. At first glance, she seemed the cold, composed woman of standing that Ida had grown to respect and fear in equal measure.

But there was also something else at play. Ida could see it in the way her fingers dug into the elbows of her crossed arms, as though restraining herself. She clenched her jaw a little too tightly, and stood a little too stiffly as she observed her ailing son.

She was fighting an urge.

When the sneezing fit had subsided at last, Sirius slumped back against the pillows in a half-sat-up position. His eyes were bleary. He was clearly exhausted. Ida didn't think she'd ever seen him look quite so miserable.

Ida watched as mother and son stared at each other in curious silence and stillness. Neither reached for the other in the way that she herself remembered from her childhood.

After what felt like an eternity but could not have been more than a minute, Walburga got to her feet. For one moment Ida thought the witch was going to turn to leave, but was relieved to see her stoop down towards her son.

She did not, however, envelope him in the hug Ida had anticipated. Instead she pressed a hand to her son's forehead, frowning at what she found.

"Feverish, still" Walburga murmured, to herself, Ida supposed, for she gazed absent-mindedly down at the bed as she spoke.

"In any case, the potion appears to be doing its work"

Walburga's hand drifted down to brush across Sirius's pox-marked cheek, observing the marks which had begun to fade slightly. She was light-handed, gentle. It teetered on the verge of a caress.  
Ida noticed Walburga's hand linger just a second longer than was strictly necessary. And, remarkably, Sirius did not toss his head to shake off his mother's touch.

Pulling her hand away a tad too quickly, as though she'd suddenly realised what she was doing, Walburga grasped her son by the arms and manoeuvred him, briskly, but gently, to lay down fully in the bed. She pulled the covers up to his chin and tucked the blankets in firmly, ironing out any attempt at a crease in the material.

"Get some rest" she said firmly, her tone a tad softer than usual. "The pox marks are beginning to fade. I'm sure you'll begin to feel better soon"

And with that gesture of farewell, Walburga turned away from her son's bed and marched in the direction of the door - and Ida, who found herself fixed with the stern, grey gaze that never failed to set her on edge.

"My son requires firm handling, Miss Knowles" Walburga said firmly. "You will get nowhere by coddling him with simpering requests to do this or that. He needs to be told, properly"

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'll try to remember that in future" Ida replied with a meek nod. wringing her hands in front of her.

"You'd do well to do more than simply remember it, girl"

The witch's tone was icy with dignified threat.

"I suggest that you learn from it. Otherwise, there are plenty of other girls vying for a position in this household, whom I may consider better suited for the role of handling my son"

It was just as well that Walburga did not wait for Ida to respond to her warning, for the girl was left wanting for an appropriate reply to come to mind.

Ida watched as Walburga Black strode, with the elegent authority she always carried herself with, trying to stifle the rising bout of anxious nausea forming inside her.

She thought of her family, far away in rural Devon, and how quietly cynical they had been of her ambition to run away to the big city and pursue a career as a governess. How would her mother look at her when she returned, dismissed in disgrace for not being able to control an eight-year-old? How would she look her father in the eye when she had to backtrack on her promise to convert some of her wages from Wizarding Galleons to Muggle Pounds to help him purchase a new tractor?

A rustling noise suddenly pulled Ida from the depths of her thoughts.

She glanced over at the bed to find Sirius attempting to wriggle himself free from his mother's firm tucking-in, rumpling the covers until he was once again buried within the blanket cocoon he had previously made.

Ida could see him curling up again, hunched over in a position which she'd once seen as defiant, but now failed to see as anything other than simply vulnerable.

She sighed sadly at the boy.

In that moment, she did not see the devilishly mischievous imp who had seemed to be trying to drive her to either an early grave or the front door, whichever came first. He was merely an eight-year-old boy, ill and miserable.

A sudden memory struck Ida. It was an image from the days of her own bout of dragon pox, long ago, back home in her parents' cosy cottage.

She remembered how her mother had rubbed her back as she sneezed sparks, had hugged her tight through the fever which made her feel vile, and had spent hours by her bedside, telling stories, reading books and casting amusing spells to distract her from her itchy pox-marked skin.

What a stark contrast the stiff, distant handling Sirius had received from his mother.

Ida considered the grand house towering around her, the building practically a museum to the wealth and pride of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. All of which would one day belong to this eight-year-old boy.

He had everything that money could by, except, thought Ida, open, loving affection. The sort that was far beneath the dignity of the Blacks to express.

And as her mother had said to her, all those years ago, love was indeed the best medicine.


End file.
